Genny's Story - 5: "Something Was Very Wrong"

Genny has just described how her abusive home affected her physically and emotionally.

Marjorie: Did you ever wonder if perhaps Jim was mentally ill, that his anger was something he couldn't help?

Genny: There was definitely something wrong, but he avoided any kind of situation where he might be evaluated. But that he couldn't help it? No, I finally had to give that up. He was a Christian gentleman as far as the church and his few select friends could tell. He controlled his angry, scornful words and his selfish actions when he was around them. So he could have done that for me too, if that's what he had wanted to do. But at home he let "the evil twin" out. He knew how to use his anger as a tool; he could turn it on or off to get whatever it was he wanted. He told me that when he was a child or young man, he stood in front of a mirror and practiced saying vicious things, and that through the years he took satisfaction in seeing how he could wither people with his words.

M: Is it possible that he had some kind of personality disorder?

G: I'm sure that's possible, although I don't know a lot about those problems. Sometimes I wish it could have been as simple as saying, "Well, he has this" or "He is such-and-such." I have to remind myself that this is something he carefully controlled. I even told him, "You're nice to everyone but me." He just kept an expressionless mask over his face—no recognition, no denial either—like I had made some ridiculous statement that he could just ignore. I really believe he liked being angry. I think he felt powerful and in control when he was loud and mean. I read somewhere that anger can give a "high" as addictive as a drug. I think he was addicted. Once in a mellow moment, I told him, "If you could give up your inner rage, you would be a different man." "No, no," he answered, "I am a transformed man." (Meaning that because he had accepted Jesus as Savior, his old life simply didn't exist.) I am here to tell you that was not true. Being "saved" did not bring a deep life change in him.

M: So sometimes you did confront him?

G: Sort of. I'm not sure you could even call it confrontation. I walked away a few times, when he was loud and angry. I left the room or the house while he was yelling, "Don't you dare leave me!" But at that time, I didn't think of actually leaving him as an option. Later, after recognizing the extent of the abuse and deciding, "I am not going to live this way," I did have to begin facing what the next step would be. It didn't seem like an immediate decision that I needed to make in a hurry. I knew I could make it on my own, but I couldn't see myself leaving. I was still clinging to that little bit of hope that he would choose to relate to me as a loving husband.

M: What about those "sort-of" confrontations? Why weren't you more assertive in taking care of yourself in the relationship?

G: It took a very long time to sink in that all of this was not going to turn out okay. Then when I did realize it, I did not have the kind of strength and self-respect that would have been required to stop the mistreatment. I'm not sure I ever possessed that confidence, but if so, it had been beaten down and I was just numb. Had I been that stronger and wiser person, I probably wouldn't have been married to Jim at all.. He was attracted to the quiet, compliant woman I was, and might not have even liked me had I been otherwise!

There was something very wrong, that is to say unbalanced. Over and over I have said to myself, "This man, at least while I lived with him, was wicked or very, very sick." Probably some of both. He was very sick in the sense that he did not respond to life in what would be called "normal" ways. But I think he made little choices over and over again that led in the wrong, self-destructive direction—just like a diabetic may choose to disregard nutritional counsel, or a person with lung cancer continues to smoke. I believe Jim's choices shaped his body and his brain until the bent of his life was pretty nearly irreversible, and perhaps then he really couldn't any longer choose; I don't know. And I have to let God judge whether or not he was wicked. From my perspective, I will say that he did not show the spirit of Christ.

M: But God can deliver from such patterns, can't He?

G: Oh, of course! I really believe that. But it doesn't happen if a person is resisting change. Jim preferred not to submit to any of the costly or painful disciplines God might have used in his life. He just admitted that he loved pleasure and ease too much for that. God doesn't force us to undergo training. We have to present ourselves, prepared for whatever it takes to make us into His disciples.

Knowing that Jim was very wrong does not mean that I accept no responsibility. There's a difference between assuming responsibility and accepting blame. I did not cause the abuse; it was not my fault. I am able now to take responsibility for being the kind of person who could not stand up for herself and say, "This is not right." But it's still not helpful or realistic for me to examine the "Jim years" and tell myself, "Why didn't you just say . . ." "If you had just done such-and-such." If I could have said or done differently, I probably wouldn't even have been in that situation in the first place. The timid little steps I did take were all I could manage at the time.

To be continued.